


Bring On The Day (A timestamp for In a Mirror Distorted and Indistinct)

by felisblanco



Series: Mirror [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, fic 2010
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-11
Updated: 2010-04-11
Packaged: 2017-10-21 07:05:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/222270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felisblanco/pseuds/felisblanco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>They’re in Starbucks of all places, paying for their cups of coffee and two muffins, one blueberry, one apple and cinnamon.  That’s how stupidly random it is. Just a normal day in his normal fucked up life and then... Bam!</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Bring On The Day (A timestamp for In a Mirror Distorted and Indistinct)

**Author's Note:**

> This will probably not make any sense if you haven't read In a Mirror Distorted and Indistinct. So yeah, maybe read that first. Just a suggestion if you're not familiar with it (or if it's been a while). ;)
> 
> Title from the slogan for Starbucks DoubleShot. Unbeta'd and I still have no spell check on my laptop so feel free to point out spelling mistakes etc.

“Hey, Jensen, right? Jensen Ackles?”

They’re in Starbucks of all places, paying for their cups of coffee and two muffins, one blueberry, one apple and cinnamon. That’s how stupidly random it is. Just a normal day in his normal fucked up life and then... Bam!

He probably should have recognized the voice right away but the truth is he doesn’t. Maybe because it’s not really the same. For one thing there’s none of the old cockiness and disdain, instead it sounds almost pathetic in its nervousness. Maybe because it’s the wrong place, the wrong circumstances, hell even the wrong century. Whatever the reason, fact is that when he turns around, the well-rehearsed I-love-meeting-my-fans smile plastered on his face, the familiar face staring at him nervously catches him completely off guard.

“Wow, it is you. Man. Haven’t seen you since high school.”

Jensen is aware of Jared coming up behind him, tall and solid like a brick wall. He’s aware of the noises surrounding him and the heat of the coffee burning the palm of his hand through the thin paper cup. Most of all he’s aware of his heart stuttering in his chest before speeding up until it feels like it’s racing to his death.

“Who’d have thunk, eh?” The man laughs nervously and runs a hand through his thinning hair. He’s wearing a suit that doesn’t really fit. Like it had been bought before he thickened around the waist and now it just stretches around him from memory.

“Wouldn’t have known you except for the name, first time you popped up on my TV,” the man blabbers on, obviously unnerved by Jensen’s frozen silence. “Told my wife, ‘Jensen Ackles, I know that name’. Thought she’d have a fit. First time I saw you but she said you’d been doing that acting thing for years. Some girl show I don’t watch, I guess.” He laughs again, looking from Jensen’s blank face to Jared.

“Oh, you too, man. Great show you two’ve got.”

Jared takes a step closer, enough that Jensen can feel the heat from his coffee cup warming his bicep. “Jensen?” he asks, very quiet, very much alert.

Jensen blinks. The man is still smiling at him but with increased nervousness, looking like he regrets ever having said anything.

“I’m sorry,” Jensen says finally and flashes the man his most brilliant smile. “I have no idea who you are.” He shrugs apologetically and adds, “Please excuse us, we’re late to a photoshoot. You know how it is.”

He nods amicably and turns away, feeling Jared fall immediately in line behind him. They exit the coffeehouse, smiling and nodding to some of the regulars as they head over to the car. They don’t talk until both have closed their doors and Jared has the key in the switch.

“Are you…?”

“Drive. Just go,” Jensen says hoarsely, staring blindly out the window.

Jared nods and puts the car in gear, checking the side mirror before heading into traffic.

They drive along the high street and then Jared takes a right turn, slowing down as he shoots Jensen worried glances. Soon as they’ve rounded the corner Jensen’s hands starts shaking. He tightens the hold on the coffeecup in his hand but he can feel it slipping through his sweaty fingers, his heart beating insanely fast in his chest and however much he tries he can’t catch his breath.

Through the buzzing in his ears he registers Jared talking but all he can hear is the worried tone of his voice and no words.

“Pull over,” he finally manages to hiss out. The car swings to the side and Jensen is vaguely aware of losing the grip on his cup and Jared’s hand shooting out to catch it a heartbeat before it hits the floor. Then his seat is sliding back and Jared has one hand on his neck, palm still hot from holding the coffee. He pushes Jensen’s head gently forward until it’s resting between his knees.

“That’s it, just breathe, Jen.”

“I ca-can’t…”

“Yes, you can. I’m right here.”

He hates having panic attacks in front of Jared. They make him feel weak and pathetic and like such a failure. He has so many things going on in his head that he never wants anyone to know about, not even his therapist, but at least they’re in his head, not out there on display for all to see. But whenever this happens it’s like he’s opened a window to his fucked up brain, allowing Jared a glimpse inside.

 _This is how damaged I am, it tells him. This is the kind of mind you’ve decided to let into your life, into your heart. See? Doesn’t that make you want to just run screaming as far away as you can? Because hell, I would. If I could run and leave myself behind I would. God, I would._

He slowly becomes aware of his surroundings again. Some time must have passed because the windows are steamed up and his head is in Jared’s lap. Jared’s hand is on his back, long fingers rubbing soothing circles into the skin under his sweat-soaked clothes. Jensen breathes out a low groan and Jared instantly lays his other hand on his head, stroking gently through his hair.

“You feel better?” he asks in a low voice and Jensen nods dumbly. His head is pounding and he feels like he just went ten rounds with a grizzly bear.

“Was he one of them?”

Jensen nods again. He closes his eyes. His throat tastes like vomit but he swallows it down.

“The offer still stands,” Jared says after a long silence. “Just say the word and I’ll go back and beat the crap out of him.”

Despite everything Jensen can’t help smiling. “My hero,” he says. “You sure you could take him? He looked fierce, man.”

Jared doesn’t laugh. “He shouldn’t get away with it. None of them should.”

Jensen sits up, rubbing his hand over his face. He shrugs. “Think he got his punishment already. Did you see that suit?” His eyes are fixed on his own reflection in the window. Fuck, he looks like shit.

“Jensen...”

“Let it go,” Jensen snaps. “Just... don’t.”

Jared doesn’t say anything but Jensen can see his jaw tighten in the reflection in the window. Fuck.

“Not like he was their leader or anything,” he says and tries to smile. It looks like a grimace. “He was a nobody. Is a nobody. Hell, I can’t even remember his name.”

Jared looks at him. His eyes are all pity and sadness and Jensen clenches his jaw.

“Did you see the suit?” he asks again, sneering. “Fugly, dude. And the hair. Should just shave his head while he still has some dignity left. Bet his wife is ugly too.”

“Jensen,” Jared says. He sounds sad and Jensen laughs. It’s ugly and nasty and he hates it.

“Ugly suit, ugly wife. Bet his kids get beat up at school. Right? Bet they get the snot kicked out of them just for having such a motherfucking ugly ass daddy. Fuck, I hope so.”

Jared’s hand lands on his neck, heavy and tense. “Jensen, stop.”

Jensen shrugs him off, irritated. “Sins of the father, man. Motherfucking sins of the...” He stops. Takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Sorry,” he mutters embarrassed and risks a quick glance over.

Jared nods. He doesn’t look angry, just worried. Jensen looks away again.

“You think he beats his kids?” he asks in a low voice.

“I don’t know,” Jared says. “He didn’t mention having kids.”

Jensen bites at his lower lip, gnawing it until he feels a sting and the taste of copper on the tip of his tongue. He swallows then takes a deep breath and nods. “I’m good. We should go.”

Jared studies him for a moment then nods. “Put your seatbelt back on,” he says as he starts the car, “in case we accidentally run into that fugly motherfucker.”

Jensen barks out a short laugh. “Not worth the dent in your car, dude.”

“I’ve got insurance,” Jared says lightly and shoots him such a wide grin Jensen can’t help chuckling again. This time it doesn’t make his chest hurt as much.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” he mutters but he puts his seatbelt on anyway.

“Crazy for you,” Jared says dramatically as he swings into traffic. “Absolutely frigging insane over you. Yep, that’s me.”

“Jesus. Shut up.” Jensen laughs. There’s a bag of squashed muffins by his feet and the coffee waiting for him in the cupholder is cold and nasty. He drinks it anyway. He figures it will be a while before they go back to that place. Shame, they make damn good coffee.

“Craig,” he says, voice casual.

Jared looks over at him, frowning.

“Craig Olsen. That’s his name. Owns a car dealership in Dallas now. Married, two kids. Head of the goddamn PTA. All around American good guy.”

Jared stares at him. “How do you...?” he starts then stops. He looks like he’s in pain. “Dude...”

Jensen shakes his head. He rolls down the window and reaches out, touching the warm metal on the side of the door with his fingertips. Feels like the heat could burn his prints right off. He pulls back, swallows, then glances over. Jared’s knuckles are white where they clutch the wheel. He’s staring at the road ahead, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows repeatedly.

“Don’t make it any more than it is,” Jensen says tightly. “It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

Jared just shakes head and doesn’t say anything.

“Just wanted to be prepared, that’s all. If I ever...” Jensen stops. Obviously that didn’t work.

“And the rest?” Jared asks, voice carefully blank. “They all good ol’ boys, brightening up your mama’s neighborhood?”

Jensen shrugs. “Pretty much.” He doesn’t really want to think about his mama.

“Jensen, I just... You do realize you won?” Jared says. He sounds exasperated.

Jensen looks at him. “What?”

“You won, Jensen. I mean, what are they? Car salesmen? Pencil pushers? What? You’re the goddamn star of your own tv show. You make about ten times what they do, at least. You’ve got fangirls jumping you all over the place. You won a fucking Emmy, man.”

“A daytime Emmy,” Jensen points out, his face burning. “For a soap opera role.”

“Who the hell cares? Dude, did you see the look on that loser’s face? He was peeing his pants, man. He wanted to ask you for your autograph. And you snubbed him.” Jared laughs. “It was beautiful. Seriously, I wanted to give you a standing ovation.” He looks over and he’s smiling so bright Jensen feels a little dizzy. “Jensen, that guy’s wife fangirls the kid he used to beat up in high school. How’s that for revenge?”

Jensen blinks. “Oh,” he says.

Jared nods, grinning. “Yeah. Oh. Bet you’re the guy she’s picturing in her head every time they have sex,” he adds, wiggling his eyebrows.

Jensen grimaces. “Dude, that’s... Don’t say that.”

“You know it’s true.” He looks over, face turning serious. “Anyway, it don’t matter what his life is like, what any of their lives are like, cos you know what? Every time they see your face on their TV screen, in their TV guide, hell plastered over the side of the goddamn bus they take to work every morning, they’re reminded of how the kid they treated like a worthless piece of shit is now driving his Porsche through the hills of Hollywood with a hot chick by his side. You know when he’s not snorting coke through rolls of hundred dollar bills.”

“That’s such bullshit,” Jensen says with a frown. “I don’t own a Porsche.”

Jared bursts out laughing. “Yeah, _that’s_ what’s wrong with that picture.”

“Your fucked up fantasy, not mine,” Jensen points out but he can’t help smiling a little.

“Idiot,” Jared says, affectionately. “You’re missing the point. It’s _their_ fantasy. Don’t matter if it’s true, it’s what they think you’re doing. Living it high.Can you imagine how much that must piss them off?” He laughs.

A smile tugs at the corner of Jensen’s mouth. Yeah, he actually can imagine. It feels fucking awesome. What feels even better though is that even without the made-up tabloid crap he’s still always gonna be a notch above them. Because they don’t have what he has. They don’t have Jared.

Jared hums thoughtfully, oblivious of Jensen gazing at him like a lovesick puppy. “You should totally get a Porsche, man,” he says, tapping the wheel. “A convertible. My hair would look fabulous all blowing in the wind. Like Katherine Hepburn.”

Jensen looks at him, all shaggy hair and deep dimples and patches of stubble he missed when shaving this morning. His shirt’s got some ugly ass pink pattern that hurts Jensen’s eyes, his jeans are ripped at the thigh with golden hairs peeking out and Jensen knows that when Jared kicks off his shoes he’s gonna stink up the place like a goddamn skunk even if he put on clean socks this morning.

“Yeah,” he says softly, “just like Katherine Hepburn.”

Jared just laughs.

fin


End file.
